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CHAPTER VI
The Ride

IT was true, as Miss Blackstone had said, that the little party of four, the two Red Cross nurses and two physicians, had started out with the intention of taking only a short drive and returning to the hospital in plenty of time for their duties.

And in spite of the fact that Sonya might be cherishing an unreasonable prejudice, the drive had been proposed by Dr. Raymond first to Theodosia Thompson with the suggestion that she ask Ruth Carroll to accompany them and that he invite Dr. Leon Mendel who was also one of the Red Cross staff.

Early in the morning of the same day a note had been sent to the hospital and a motor car offered to the American Red Cross unit during their stay in Luxemburg. As the note had been delivered to Dr. Raymond he had considered it only courtesy to accept the kindness. He had also been quite selfishly interested in seeing the capital city of Luxemburg and the neighboring country and in enjoying a short respite from his continuous work of establishing the temporary hospital.

If Sonya was annoyed by the young doctor's attitude toward Thea Thompson, assuredly he was more so. Certainly he was not at present under the impression that he actually liked her, only that she had somehow made him realize that he must have always appeared too self-centered and too serious, and that he needed waking up. And certainly Thea was stimulating and now and then amusing.

This afternoon as he was feeling tired he proposed that she occupy the front seat of the little motor car with him, Ruth and Dr. Mendel sitting in the rear.

Following no guide except their own impressions they drove through the city, first past the Grand Ducal Palace then the handsome residences of the nobility and finally to the open country on the outskirts of the city.

To all four of the occupants of the car it seemed to have had wings, so short a time did their drive absorb.

Nevertheless Thea and Dr. Raymond had not enjoyed each other particularly.

They were both tired and Thea was having one of the attacks of depression from which she often suffered. She looked both homely and pale, and even her eyes were less blue beneath their straight, red-brown lashes. Only her red hair breaking into irrepressible little waves under her small hat was full of life and charm.

Reaching the end of the main road from which two country lanes branched off into less inhabited portions of the countryside, Dr. Raymond turned to speak to Ruth Carroll and Dr. Mendel.

"I am sorry, it seems to me our ride has scarcely begun, and yet I feel we had best turn back here. We might allow ourselves a little more time but I am afraid if we try one of these unexplored roads we may lose ourselves somewhere."

Ruth made a little nod of agreement even though her expression revealed disappointment. Dr. Mendel made no reply.

But unexpectedly Dr. Raymond felt a hand laid lightly on his coat sleeve.

"Please do go a little further," Thea begged. "I wonder if you know that although I am a country girl I have ridden in automobiles only a few times in my life before coming to France."

Hesitating the young doctor slowed down his car as if expecting to turn around.

"I am not in the habit of neglecting my duty for any reason whatsoever, Miss Thompson. I have just explained that I dared not attempt a strange country road for fear we might go astray and our return to the hospital be seriously delayed."

Undoubtedly the young Red Cross doctor's manner was self-righteous and precise, but in answer Thea laughed.

It was an odd laugh which made him flush uncomfortably.

"Oh, please do go back then at once!" she said. "Nothing would make me ask you to disregard your duty. Really Dr. Raymond, it is a wonderful experience to know any one who so perfectly answers all the requirements of a model character. Besides I know you would never do anything because I asked you, although as a matter of fact, we all have the right to our usual two hours off duty this afternoon and less than half of that time has gone by."

There was a little sting of bad temper in Thea Thompson's manner and words which undoubtedly were her heritage along with her brilliant red-gold hair.

Instead of replying Dr. Raymond drove his car, not backward toward the hospital as he had announced his intention of doing, but into one of the country roads leading into an entirely unknown locality.

It would have been difficult for him to have explained his impetuous action.

Half an hour later, at the end of a road which led apparently nowhere, Dr. Raymond stopped his car.

"I think I have already managed to lose the way, thanks to you, Miss Thompson," he announced irritably, "However, I suppose we can simply turn around and go back. Certainly this part of the country is entirely uninteresting without a house or an individual in sight. I was very foolish to agree to your request and shall certainly reproach myself if any one has been in special need of me at the hospital. I only trust we may be able to return as quickly as we have made the trip."

However, Thea made no reply to this reproachful speech except to jump to her feet.

"Look!" she cried dramatically. "What a perfectly charming picture in that field over there! I told you I was from Kentucky and yet I never saw any one ride so beautifully!"

Naturally Thea's companions followed her suggestion.

Just beyond the end of their road was a wide open field thick with winter stubble. In the centre was a tall hurdle intended for jumping.

Riding toward this hurdle at a swift pace was a young girl; she was wearing a close fitting, scarlet riding habit, a little dark hat of some kind and high riding boots.

Her horse was almost equally slim and beautiful, and horse and rider had the suggestion of oneness which is the attribute of perfect riding.

There was no other human being in sight.

The girl was making straight for the hurdle. Evidently she and her horse were both in the habit of jumping for neither showed the least sign of nervousness.

Breathless with admiration and interest the two American girls and their companions watched.

The horse rose in the air, his head a little forward, the rider holding the bridle with just the right degree of freedom and firmness.

She was sitting perfectly still, her body in entire accord with the movement of her horse. No one beholding her would have dreamed of an accident. Yet when the horse had actually cleared the hurdle without difficulty and had reached the ground on the further side, the girl must have released her hold. In any event she fell forward over the horse's head, one of the front hoofs striking her.

First out of the car was Thea Thompson followed by Dr. Raymond, then Ruth and the other Red Cross physician.

The girl they found to be unconscious from a wound in her forehead.

"I don't see why we seem to be in the habit of rescuing people nearly every time I go out in a motor car," said Thea. "Certainly I never saw so pretty a girl as this one, I hope she is not seriously hurt."

Dr. Raymond wore his most professional air.

"It is impossible to say at present," he returned severely.

CHAPTER VII
An Unexpected Situation

"BUT I don't wish to leave the hospital, I am comfortable here and Mrs. Clark says they are pleased to have me. Besides I could not possibly be moved just now, I am sure I could not endure it."

The young girl who was talking lay surrounded by pillows in a wide, old-fashioned bed in the American Red Cross hospital in Luxemburg.

Partly from excitement and also because it was characteristic, a brilliant color flamed the girl's cheeks. At present there was a little frown between her dark, finely lined brows.

"You must be glad not to have me at home for a time, knowing how we disagree on every important question. And, as for my absence from the palace, I am sure it can only be a relief. You know just how popular I am there at present in the midst of – "

The woman who was standing beside the bed, leaning over at this instant placed her fingers on the girl's lips.

"Don't talk nonsense and under no circumstances speak of so serious a matter where we may be overheard by strangers, my dear child. Please realize that the Americans are unknown people to us and if there are reasons why it is best we should be cordial, there is an even more important reason why, at present, we should keep our own council. A girl's opinions on matters of state are really not vital, unless the girl chances to be the Grand Duchess Marie Adelaide. As her cousin you perhaps take yourself too seriously. But I am not offering you advice, merely telling you that your father desires that you be moved to your own home as soon as your physicians think it advisable. The court physician will call on you at the hospital this afternoon. Both your father and I are at a loss to understand how you managed to fall from your horse when ordinarily you are so skilful a rider."

The speaker was a severe, elderly person, rather massive, and dressed in a heavy black silk gown, with her white hair piled high under an imposing bonnet and her thin lips drawn into an annoyed line.

Nevertheless, she managed to keep the tones of her voice fairly even.

"Naturally enough I realize, Charlotta, that you would refuse to be influenced by me, although for that matter you have never been influenced by any one from the time you were a child."

The girl bit her lips.

"I am afraid I am not well enough to argue at present and my unfortunate disposition, Tante, is rather a time-worn subject between us. I shall do no harm here, only rest and have a little peace from our everlasting discussions. Besides, you do not seem to consider the fact that I happen to be rather seriously hurt. No one knows how seriously at present, a broken arm and a cut on one's head are not comfortable afflictions, even if they are not dangerous. But the physicians at the American Red Cross hospital who were good enough to rescue and bring me here seem to believe there may be other complications and that I had best stay where I am for the present. Please be as gracious as possible, I have asked Mrs. Clark to come in this afternoon and be introduced to you. Her husband is a prominent American surgeon who has gone on with General Pershing toward Germany. She is here with a few other Red Cross nurses caring for a number of American soldiers until they are well enough to be moved. I think we owe her special courtesy as a guest in our country."

"I am apt to forget the fact Charlotta, or what is required of me, even though I do regard it as unfortunate that the American army should have left us a special reminder of their visit, once having passed through our country."

There was an iciness in the manner of the Countess Scherin which gave one the right to believe that she had no enthusiasm for the American army, whatever personal reasons of state might compel her to courtesy.

Before replying the young Countess Charlotta Scherin dropped back on her pillows.

"If you don't mind, Tante, would you mind ringing the bell? I am sure you would prefer seeing Mrs. Clark in the drawing-room and I am suffering a good deal just at this moment and would like to be quiet. After all you know this house is mine and this bed on which I am at present lying was once my own mother's. If for reasons of state I was allowed to offer my house to the American Red Cross during their stay in Luxemburg, it seems to me like fate that I should be brought here after my accident. But please don't mention to Mrs. Clark that this is my house. It was offered to the American Red Cross in the name of the city."

A moment later Bianca Zoli appeared to escort their distinguished visitor downstairs.

About to leave the room she beheld an imploring glance in the dark eyes of the girl on the bed and going closer heard her whisper:

"Do please come back as soon as you can, I don't really need anything except that I am lonely."

Returning fifteen minutes later, it was then after five o'clock and dusk was gathering in the fine, old-fashioned chamber, so Bianca Zoli quietly sat down without speaking in the chair which had just been vacated by the elderly countess.

The girl upon the bed appeared to be asleep at the moment, but as Bianca had no other duty to occupy her it struck her that it might be entertaining to sit in the big, strange room watching her companion and thinking of her story, or at least of its brief outline which was all she knew at present.

Having witnessed the girl's accident and finding her unconscious and therefore unable to explain her name or identity, it had appeared to both the young American physicians and nurses that the best solution would be to bring her as swiftly as possible to their own hospital. After she had received the necessary attention there would be time and opportunity to discover her family and friends.

A few hours afterwards, when the girl herself returned to consciousness, she explained that she was the young Countess Charlotta Scherin and lived with her father and aunt on their estate at a short distance from the city. The greater part of her time, however, she spent at the Grand Palace with her cousins, the Grand Duchess Marie Adelaide and her five younger sisters.

She seemed to be in a great deal of pain and yet not particularly unhappy over her accident, only asking that her father be informed that she was in safe hands. And if it were possible and not too much trouble could she remain at the American Red Cross hospital until her recovery?

Yet Bianca had only considered her companion for a few moments when she became aware that the other girl had opened her eyes and was looking with the deepest interest at her.

"I am so glad to have the chance to know American girls," she began. "It may strike you as odd but I have wanted to know them all my life and now through my accident I am to have the opportunity. But you look very young and fragile to have undertaken Red Cross work during the war. I believe it is the courage, the way in which you go ahead and do what you wish and face the consequences afterwards, that I so much admire."

Bianca shook her head.

"It is odd your saying this to me of all persons, because I used to feel a good deal as you do. You see I am not altogether an American girl; my mother was an Italian and my father an American, but I have been living in the United States and I confess I have tried to make myself as like one as possible. But do you think you ought to talk? I'll talk to you if you like, although I am not very interesting; I'm afraid you must be suffering a great deal."

Bianca made this final remark because her companion was evidently struggling to keep back the tears which had suddenly filled her eyes.

"Yes, do please talk to me, I am suffering, but I think it is more because I am worried and unhappy than because I am in such pain that I lose my self-control. I have always prided myself on being able to endure physical pain. What are you thinking about?"

Bianca's large dark eyes which were her only southern inheritance had unexpectedly assumed a questioning expression, although her lips had framed no question.

"Why, I was merely thinking of how odd life is and how few persons, even young girls are particularly happy. A moment ago I was sitting here envying you because your life seemed so wonderful to me. You have been brought up amid wealth and have a title of your own and live a part of the time in a palace with real duchesses. I suppose my speech does not sound very democratic, yet I think you might find a good many American girls who would envy you for these same reasons."

"Then they would be extremely stupid," the other girl answered, "because freedom is sometimes the most important thing in the world to an individual as it may be to a state.

"Suppose, oh, leaving me out of the question altogether, but just suppose that any girl's mother had died when the girl was a baby only one year old. Then suppose the child had been brought up by her father and aunt both of whom were twice the age of the girl's own mother. Then remember her mother was French and the girl always loved only the things which concerned her mother, had learned to speak her language and had written letters to all her family, but had never been allowed to visit them because the girl's father and aunt believed only in German ideals and in German customs and wished to separate her wholly from her mother's country and people. Moreover, they had neither of them ever been able to forgive her because she had not been a boy and so been trained for the army, the German army if possible. Then suppose the girl had loved only the outdoors and horses and dogs as if she had been a boy, but because she was a girl had to be trained in all the German ways. As for living in a palace, it is hard sometimes to do and say the proper thing all the time, when you feel they don't believe in the things you believe. Oh, I am not saying the fault is not mine – "

The girl stopped an instant.

"But I was not supposed to be talking about myself, still you must have guessed."

"I should not have guessed unless you wished me to guess," Bianca replied in the prim little fashion of her childhood which she had never lost from her manner and which amused and pleased her friends.

"No, you would not have guessed, you are a dear," the Countess Charlotta answered with an impulsiveness which was an entire contrast to Bianca's nature.

"But what I wanted to explain to you is that you were envying what you thought were my circumstances. You were not really thinking of me at all. You see one might be a princess and be very unhappy and one might be a very humble person and just the opposite. Then I think we ought to realize that a princess may be very horrid and a beggar maid most wonderful."

The young countess hesitated.

"I thought that what I have just said is what Americans believed. Don't they think that human beings are equal and that it all depends on what they do with their own lives, what they are able to make of themselves?"

Bianca shook her head.

"I don't know, you had better talk to some one else on this question instead of to me. I am not at all clever, even my best friends, Sonya Clark and Carlo Navara, do not think I am clever. But there is one thing I understand at present. You have told me a great many interesting facts about yourself, but there is something else on your mind which you have not confided to me. It is something which makes you wish you were an American girl because you believe in that case you could do what you like. I think you wish to confide in some one, but can't quite decide. If I were in your place I would try not to worry until you are better, then if you want some one to talk to, don't choose me. I should never be able to give you any worthwhile advice. But talk to Mrs. Clark, Sonya Clark. She has had a very unusual life and is one of the most wonderful friends in the world!"

The older girl was by this time lying back on her pillows and gazing at Bianca with an odd smile.

"You know," she said finally, "I would not be surprised if your friends are mistaken in thinking you are not clever. Perhaps I shall take your advice. I suppose I had best try now to go to sleep, I am afraid I have already talked too much."

CHAPTER VIII
The Countess's Story

A FEW days later it had become unnecessary for the little Countess Charlotta to confide her secret to Bianca Zoli, or Sonya, or to any one else at the temporary Red Cross hospital in the capital city of Luxemburg. Already her history had been openly discussed by visitors to the hospital, even by the servants who were assisting with the household work.

It was a well-known fact, apparently, that marriage was being arranged for the youthful countess by her father and aunt to an elderly German nobleman.

Nor was the little countess's opposition to the match, her refusal to consider it as a possibility any more of a secret than the knowledge that no attention was being paid her protests.

Inquiring the name of the girl who might be regarded as the prettiest and the most wilful among the daughters of the noble families of Luxemburg, one undoubtedly would have been told, Charlotta Scherin. During the past four years perhaps her mixture of German and French blood had been a disturbing inheritance.

Shortly after the passing of a portion of the American Army of Occupation through the little country, many were the rumors and talks of political changes and readjustments which would probably take place, but to these the small American Red Cross unit decided to give little heed.

One thing they were obliged to hear, the Grand Duchess Marie Adelaide had not pleased all her subjects by her surrender to German ideas and designs during the recent years when the German army had used her kingdom as a passageway to France.

In spite of her verbal protest against the breaking of the treaty which declared her country neutral, once the Germans had entered her duchy the Grand Duchess had appeared to sympathize with the invaders.

Now, whether it was the world talk of democracy, the victory of the allies, or the old love of the little duchy of Luxemburg for France, the people of the small kingdom were assuredly considering a change of government.

Yet this problem did not trouble or affect the affairs of the Red Cross hospital. Nor did the little Countess Charlotta appear deeply interested, insisting that her family would make the same effort to compel her marriage without regard to political reforms.

Certainly the young Luxemburg countess, whatever her upbringing, was not a reserved character. Instead she seemed to love nothing so well as to discuss her own past, present and future with the group of American girls and to have them tell her as much as they would of their own histories.

One way or another apparently the Countess Charlotta was in the habit of managing to do what she liked.

The thing she wished at present was to remain as long as possible at the American Red Cross hospital.

It was true at first the two Red Cross physicians who had been her rescuers advised against her removal from the hospital. Influenced by them, or perhaps sharing their view, her own physician had given the same opinion. But now a number of days having passed without fresh complications, undoubtedly the Countess Charlotta might have returned home had she so desired.

Yet since she did not so desire and declined to stir from her bed, naturally Sonya felt obliged to insist upon her remaining until she had completely recovered.

The old house in which the Red Cross was now established Sonya had since learned was the property of the girl who was in a sense an accidental patient.

The Countess Charlotta was not a troublesome invalid, Sonya's chief difficulty being that the Red Cross girls so enjoyed the newcomer's society it was difficult to keep them out of her room during any of their spare moments.

Certainly she was brave and made as little as possible of her physical suffering, and then her insatiate curiosity about American girls was a charm in itself.

As a matter of fact it was Charlotta who soon knew more of the history of the present group of Red Cross girls than any one of their number had ever formerly known.

Both Mildred Thornton and Nona Davis told her of their own engagements, perhaps unwisely sympathizing with the difference in their own futures and hers.

Bianca Zoli spared nothing of her past save the betrayal of her country's secrets by her Italian mother, a fact to which she never alluded.

Sonya even discovered herself relating anecdotes of her own somewhat long and checkered career for the benefit of the newcomer who was at once the guest of the hospital and its hostess. She even spoke of her recent marriage to Dr. David Clark and the fact that his Red Cross unit would establish a hospital in one of the old castles on the Rhine as soon as the American Army of Occupation were in possession of Coblenz.

Ruth Carroll reported that she had not so interesting a story to tell as she knew the little countess would have liked to hear. Her life had been fairly prosaic; her father was a country doctor in a little Kentucky town and she had never left home until the interest in the war led her to study nursing and later to join the Red Cross service in France.

Regardless of Charlotta's openly expressed unbelief, Ruth insisted that never in her life, not even as a little girl, had she possessed a real admirer.

In compensation Ruth could only declare that if Theodosia Thompson cared to tell of her past it would form a contrast to her own humdrum tale.

It chanced that Bianca Zoli was also in the little countess's room when one evening after supper Theodosia dropped in to rest and talk before going upstairs to bed.

Her duties were over for the day and it seemed to both the other girls that she appeared tired and cross. Yet the work at the hospital at present was not severe. Most of the American soldiers, who had suffered attacks of influenza on their eastward march, were now nearly well, while a few of them had already left the hospital at Luxemburg for one of the convalescent hospitals in southern France.

In their brief acquaintance Bianca and Charlotta had become intimate friends, for one reason because Bianca had more time to devote to her than the regular Red Cross nurses. But there was another strange bond in the difference in their temperaments, since concealment of her emotions was the habit of Bianca's life, while Charlotta apparently never concealed anything.

Yet Bianca was talking of Carlo Navara and their friendship when Theodosia interrupted her unconscious revelation of her affection for the young American soldier and singer.

"Perhaps you would rather I did not come in," Theodosia protested, standing a moment on the threshold and frowning.

Then, when both girls had insisted on her entrance, she came and sat down in a large chair with her small feet thrust under her.

Bianca was sitting on the edge of Charlotta's bed, both of them having been examining a box of jewelry which the young countess had demanded sent from her home earlier in the day.

The big room was very comfortable with a few pieces of old furniture which had not been removed from this chamber to give place to the regular hospital accommodations.

A shaded electric light was on a table near the bed throwing its warm lights on Bianca Zoli's fair hair and on the Countess Charlotta's black curls which she had tied with a band of bright blue velvet.

"You children look very young and very fortunate," Theodosia began, her tone a little envious.

"It must be agreeable, Countess Charlotta, not to be a Miss Nobody of Nowhere, even if you have difficulties of your own to contend with."

Theodosia made a queer little face, wrinkling her small nose, the dark light appearing in the centres of her large, pale blue eyes.

"I don't think I could make up my mind even in my present condition to marry a German nobleman, but a nobleman of another variety I think I would accept regardless of his age and the democratic ideas which are supposed to possess my country. As a matter of fact, I don't suppose any girls in the world ever wanted to marry into the nobility more than American girls before the war. I rather wonder if we have altogether changed. But at any rate I have nothing to offer to anybody, neither beauty, nor brains, nor money, nor family."

Then observing that both her companions appeared shocked by her pessimism Theodosia laughed, her expression changing with extraordinary swiftness.

"I wonder if you girls would like to hear a little of my history. I hope you won't be bored. After all it is only fair that we should know something of each other before we can form fair judgments. I wish I had the courage to confide in Mrs. Clark, but I don't think she likes me.

"I might as well tell the worst or the best of myself first. My mother was a dancer. I don't know much about her except that she was ill and came to a little Kentucky town to try to recover. My father was a boy, younger than she, and fell desperately in love. He married her without a cent and against the will of his older brother, a small farmer. Well, my mother died and my father died soon after when I was a few years old. Afterwards I was brought up by a very unpleasant old uncle of the story book variety, who disliked me and everything about me.

"I never had any friends except Ruth Carroll, who is an angel and has always been good to me. People in little towns are still suspicious of an ancestry like mine. I want to be a dancer myself, but I have never had the opportunity. So I studied nursing because Ruth was studying and because I wanted to help in the war and most of all, to get away from Cloverport, Kentucky.

"There is my history in a nutshell, but what is really interesting in life isn't the chapters one has already read, it is the chapters to come. I hope we may soon go on to Coblenz. I am sure we will have an interesting time there. Only of course I am sorry, Countess Charlotta, that you will not be with us."

Older than her companions, Theodosia's dramatic Irish instinct was somewhat overwhelming. Even the little Luxemburg countess felt her own story of less interest and importance by comparison.

Fortunately Theodosia had also an Irish sense of humor and observing the awestruck expressions of her companions, suddenly she laughed a gay little laugh which was one of the attractions of her odd and not always pleasing personality.

"Oh, you must not take what I have just told you too seriously. Ruth Carroll, who understands me better than any one else, says I get more pleasure than sorrow out of my queer history. As for the dancing I only wish to do folk dancing and Mrs. Clark tells me the soldiers are beginning to be interested in folk dancing as one of the methods of amusing themselves. I told her how much I was interested and she told me there might be a chance to help entertain the soldiers as well as nurse them, after the army of occupation settles down for a long watch upon the Rhine. Goodnight," and even more quickly than she had appeared, Thea, as her friends called her, slipped out of the big chair and disappeared.